The roses grot, White doves fluttering by
Endless dreams in the sky
Untouched though, never taught how
Summer air and drenched leaves
For thou is not to teach
The dreams were never reached

The wind gliding through my soul
Little clouds flowing along
A melody of god's way untold
A repetition to understand
Listened once, forgot again

Grief they say is the last form of love
Being clawed away are these yearnings for more
They trim the leaves, water the roots
Maybe new buds, new petals, will bruit

To be god's fool, color blissful deeds
Petrels coot slandering lies above the water bed
Sent out to ramble of helpless needs,
in the blue canvas, never dead
When will the bluebirds coo?
Will they too
paint their sins, close to the dunes?

What if god is how you describe
with caressing hands and gentle eyes
You say his name so attentively
despite the one syllable Melody

When will her eyes glow for me
And not the being who took her loved
Simmering is a prayer on my lips
that is authored to no god.